Dear Dr. Gleason:—
He isn't my property. I can't lose him, for I haven't him to lose. He took himself away from me years ago. If ever I'm to win him back, I must win him—not compel him. If he thinks he's found some one else—all the more reason why I can't come back now, until he knows whether he wants her or not. But if I came now, and he should want her— Really, Dr. Gleason, I don't want the same man to tell me twice to—go.
Helen D.
"Hm-m; just about what I expected she'd say," commented the doctor's sister tranquilly, as she laid the letter down.
"Oh, you women!" flung out the doctor, springing to his feet and turning wrathfully on his heel.
The doctor was relieved, but not wholly eased in his mind some days later when he heard indirectly that Denby Mansion was closed, and that the Denbys were off again to some remote corner of the world.
"Well, anyhow, the widow isn't with him now," he comforted himself aloud.
"Building bridges for the Hottentots again?" smiled his sister.
"Yes. Australia this time."
"Hm-m; that's nice and far," mused the lady.